


Well Fed

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Lactation Kink, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 21:48:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16146221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dean Winchester has always been a breast man and has believed the bigger the better. It was no surprise that after the first time Sam got pregnant Dean couldn't help himself by paying a lot of attention to Sam's soft and growing chest that just became more feminine as the milk developed. Before their child's second birthday Sam got pregnant again something that they both welcomed because they've always wanted a big family and Dean became even happier because Sam went up a cup size almost immediately and continued to blossom along with the pregnancy.Cue a few years later and Sam has given birth a number of times (and maybe even pregnant again) and Dean might be in love with getting Sam pregnant in part just because of how enormous Sam's breasts have gotten. Dean pays a lot of attention to them in bed sucking on them, fucking them, biting, and  drinking Sam's milk.Dean has gotten a bit of a tummy from his addiction to Sam's milk or a little sympathy weight from all those babies.





	Well Fed

***

Dean was first woken by those certain squeals of delight that could only come from the lungs of little girls, then a moment later, he was propelled into full wakefulness as two tiny bodies launched themselves onto him. It was a testament to how far he'd come in the last twelve years that a surprise awakening like this didn't send him scrabbling for the gun under his pillow. Hell, he didn't even sleep with a gun or knife under the pillow any more. All such objects were locked up in the gun safe. Sure, he had holy water and salt close at hand, but those objects weren't dangerous to the curious little people that now populated their lives rather than demons, vamps and other monsters. 

Dean curled his arms around the girls, cuddling them close. His girls. How strange was that? That he, Dean Winchester, had two little girls in the family? Pammie and Mary Dean were the middlemost children in his family. They giggled and then, in synchrony, cried out, "Daddy!"

Mary Dee, older by a year, added, "Papa says you have to get up now. It's breakfast time!"

"He made pancakes!" Pammie said. "So hurry or they'll get cold."

He kissed each of them on the top of their head before letting them wriggle out of his arms. Thus freed, they ran back downstairs again, presumably to get pancakes before their older brothers got them all. Dean smiled to himself as he pulled on a t-shirt to go with his pajama bottoms, wondering just what he'd done to deserve this life, the one he thought he'd never have. The one he thought he couldn't have. 

As he stood at the top of the stairs, listening to the chaos below before descending, he rubbed his belly. He was getting a bit of a gut. He always called it sympathy weight, picked up during his husband's pregnancies, but somehow never taken off. Truth was, he was getting older. His metabolism, the one that had allowed road and dinner food not to catch up with him, despite more days than not sitting behind the wheel of a car, was slowing down. He'd always had a strong appreciation for the finer things in life and that had never gone away. He'd always been well-fed, enjoying whatever he wanted, pretty much whenever he wanted and that was never more true than now. 

As he walked down the stairs, he thought idly about stepping up his workout routine, cutting back a little here or there, but if he was honest with himself, that was never going to happen. Yeah, he was a good fifteen, twenty pounds over his fighting weight, but that didn't matter any more. The fight was over. He was a suburban dad with a big house, probably too many kids that he loved outrageously, a construction business that had managed to hold its own and then some, and a husband he was literally willing to die for. Had died and gone to hell for, not that anyone else who knew that story was still around. 

Sam was at the counter tending the two electric griddles that it took to make enough pancakes quickly enough for six kids, including two tween boys who shoveled food down their gullet like they had hollow legs in need of filling. Dean didn't remember eating like that at their ages, but then they both appeared to built more along the lines of Sam than himself. Sam Jr., their oldest, was already rapidly approaching five feet tall at eleven. John, their second boy, at almost ten was catching up fast. They were both skinny, made of wire and rubber bands, like Sam had been when young. 

Dean placed a quick kiss on the back of Sam's neck before taking his usual seat at the foot of the table. The four oldest kids were all staring at him. Pammie was giggling as if she was about to burst out with something. It was then that he saw it. The little white stick on the table, just above his empty plate. One of those white sticks. He turned it over and there was a blue plus sign. 

"Sam?" he called out. 

"Yeah?" Sam responded. He turned around to face Dean, huge grin plastered on his face. 

"You're?" Dean asked. He didn't need to complete the question. Sam didn't need to answer it. Dean was already on his feet, crossing back across the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Sam, pulling him into a deep kiss that went on a micro-second too long for the comfort of the peanut gallery behind them. Dean heard a "Gross!" from both Sam Jr. and Mary Dean. Dean released Sam's lips, but pulled Sam tighter into the hug. Sam made an uncomfortable noise and Dean released him, mostly, holding him by the shoulders instead.

"Hey, ease up a little on the goods," Sam said. "They're a bit tender this morning. You know, new pregnancy."

Sam was talking about his tits, of course, a subject which Dean could wax rhapsodically on, though not when the kids were around. But Sam's tits were a wonder to behold. Maybe Dean's favorite thing ever. 

"Sorry. It's just wonderful. Best Saturday morning ever," Dean said. 

Dean planted another kiss on Sam's lips, which was well received, until Sam sniffed at the air, broke away, crying out, "Burning," meaning the pancakes, and got to flipping them. So, the day turned into the ordinary weekend chaos. Sam handed Dean a platter covered with foil. Pancakes to be doled out to the masses. 

As Dean served out pancakes, Pammy was talking to Little Bobby; always Little Bobby, even though big Bobby had died years before the kid's conception, Dean thought. "Papa's going to have another baby," she told her three year old brother. "We're going to have another sister."

"Or brother!" piped in John.

"Sister. Papa's going to have a sister. It's only fair. You outnumber us," Mary Dean said. Poor kid, getting saddled with that name. Sam had insisted on naming one of them after him, said it was only fair after Dean insisted that their oldest be known as Sam Jr. Mary Dean herself didn't mind it. She insisted on the full name, actually, refused to answer to just Mary or Mary Dee. 

Sadly, for the girls' point of view, the statistics were against them. For two men having children together, boys were way more likely. Something like a seventy-five percent chance, the new kid was going to be a boy. Dean didn't want one gender in particular over the other. He felt fortunate to have been blessed with the two girls, even more fortunate that Sam had had six successful, healthy pregnancies resulting in six ridiculously healthy children. Now number seven was on the way and Dean was thrilled. 

As Dean settled himself back into his own seat, serving himself and grabbing a couple of extras to cut up for baby Henry, he mused happily on the possibilities of Sam's pregnancy. The biggest thing to be thrilled about, of course, was the actual kid that would result. Dean's capacity for love had somehow seemed to grow with each kid, so that it felt like the more kids they had, the more he loved them. But Dean would be lying if he didn't also admit that he was looking forward to having Sam's pregnant body back. Yeah, the round belly, full of life, was wonderful, but Sam's breasts, when he was pregnant, were awesome, truly awesome. Not just in the sense that they were good, but in the sense that they caused awe in those who caught sight of them, or at least, specifically in Dean. 

Not that Sam's tits weren't fantastic all the time, but as baby Henry had stopped nursing full time, eating more regular food, they'd deflated some. Even already, Dean could see that they'd regained a little of that lost size. He could hardly wait until they'd have some adult time, tonight, and he could wrap his hands around them, gently, of course, in deference to their tenderness, and see just how much size Sam had gained back. 

At the table, everyone had been served. They were all waiting for Sam to finish up the last of the pancakes and join them at the table for a 'prayer' before they would begin. Saturday morning pancakes was its own particular ritual with its own rules. Sam finally flipped the last of the pancakes onto a plate and settled down. Sam reached out to Sam Jr. on his left and Mary Dean on his right and all the kids, no matter how little, joined in the circle, along with Dean. 

It wasn't a prayer, in the proper sense. Sam and Dean knew damn well that God existed. They couldn't be atheists, in the actual true definition of the word. But they were going to pray to that deadbeat bastard over his dead body. God had let them twist in the wind more times than Dean could count. Dean, sometimes, in private, still prayed to Castiel, but that was neither here nor there. But God could fuck himself, as far as Dean was concerned. Not that he ever said that that to their kids. They just never mentioned God. As far as the kids knew, they were atheists. It was better that way. But Sam, he still believed, even after all he'd been through, in prayer and its power to help you become a better person. So the family prayed. Sam had come up with one short prayer, unobjectionable to Dean, easy enough for all but the littlest Winchester. 

They all spoke together, "For the meal we are about to receive, we are truly grateful. Thank you." Then, there was a brief silent pause afterwards. If Sam used it to talk to God, that was his business. Dean always used it to wonder what his old friend Castiel was doing and wonder if he'd ever come back to Earth. Mary Dean once told him that she used the time to make wishes, and Dean had told her that was just fine. Whichever way it was used, that moment was probably the only time in any given day when the whole house was silent and peaceful. Dean liked the calm, so long as it didn't last too long.

It was always Dean who broke the silence, with a hearty, "Let's eat, everyone!"

Then the babble of normal family life began again. Honestly, Dean couldn't have been happier. 

"So, what were we doing today?" he asked Sam across the table. He actually knew just what they had planned. "We were supposed to stay home and rake leaves today, weren't we?"

That earned him a chorus of "Daddy!" and "No!" and "You said we're going to the zoo!" and "You promised!"

Later, Dean supervised dishes getting put in the dishwasher and little kids getting dressed more or less successfully, while Sam took a shower. Dean was not a perfect dad by any measure. He could get impatient, snap at the kids, shout when he shouldn't. Every day, he learned a little better how not to be the kind of father his father was to him. He thought that maybe some day, he might even learn to be a good enough father. He had not once so far raised a hand in anger to his kids and that felt like a real accomplishment some days. 

Dean threw on jeans and a couple of layers of clean tops. Kids dressed in more or less civilized clothes that Sam wouldn't shake his head or roll his eyes at, Dean looked in on Sam, who was getting dressed. Sam had pulled on a pair of jeans, but hadn't picked out a shirt just yet. The lucky bastard had kept his amazing body and it just kept snapping back after pregnancy. He looked good for being forty-four, never mind being a forty-four year old guy who'd been pregnant multiple times. Despite the six kids, Sam's belly was currently flat as a board. He'd lost his six pack, but other than lingering stretch marks, you'd never know to look at him that he'd given birth six times. His shoulders were as broad as they ever were, arms muscled and defined. The one, the only thing about Sam that was feminine, at least right now, given that his pregnancy was so new, was his breasts. 

Dean never tired of looking at them. Yeah, they were a little saggy from use, from being suckled on, from being used for the purpose they were intended- to make milk. That just meant the perfect globes looked settled in. Right now, they looked a little less saggy than they had, filling up because pregnancy hormones were settling in. Sam's nipples were about the size of gum drops and about the same color as his hair, light to medium brown, but they'd get darker as the pregnancy progressed. It drove Dean wild, to see such amazing, soft tits, on Sam's huge, otherwise masculine torso. Something about the contrast exaggerated the qualities of each. Dean wanted to walk up behind Sam, start touching him, rubbing his nipples, maybe tweak them gently, but he couldn't, because Sam was putting on what Dean, in his mind, called "that thing."

Actually, there were several 'that things', but they were all the same model. Almost all were beige, but a few were black. That thing was the plainest, least decorated, most utilitarian model you could find of a nursing bra. It didn't have underwires. It didn't so much shape Sam's breasts as just kind of smoosh them into place, making Sam's upper body look kind of lumpy under clothes. Dean hated that thing. Some of the older ones had turned gray with use and washing. All of them were ugly. More than anything though, if Sam wore that thing, it meant he wasn't wearing one of the bras that Dean had bought him.

"Why won't you wear one of the pretty bras I bought you?" Dean asked as Sam was hooking up that thing. He'd bought Sam some gorgeous bras that had caught his eye on the internet. Lacy, frilly things to go with his perfect breasts. Balconettes, plunge bras, bras with sheer, lacy cups. There was even one with this little ruffle trim around the edge of the cups and a little pink bow right in the center. They'd look so freaking gorgeous on Sam but he hadn't yet been able to convince Sam to wear them or even try them on in Dean's presence. Sam was stuck on the fact that he was a guy, and guys did not wear lace cup bras, even if they were stacked more than enough to fill them. It was something they'd gone back and forth on for years and Sam had put his foot down, or tried to, but it was something Dean wanted to see so much, so he kept asking.

"Not really up for discussion, Dean," Sam said. "I said no, not going to happen. Anyway, the lace itches and they're not practical. I can't nurse Henry while wearing them," Sam said, as he continued to hook. That thing seemed to be nothing but hooks and it covered Sam's breasts completely, coming up high onto his sternum, leaving not so much as a hint of cleavage. 

"Henry's getting to be a big boy," Dean said. "He doesn't nurse much during the day any more."

Of course, Sam had an answer to that as well, one that shut Dean up for just a moment. 

"And I won't be able to nurse you."

The one and only positive thing about that thing was that it gave Dean quick and easy access to Sam's tits. Not that it would happen today when they'd have all of the kids with them, but they'd been known to sneak away together in public, maybe to a restroom stall, so that Dean could have a quick nibble at one of Sam's nipples. Or maybe a quick drink. Sam got off on the doing it in public thing. Dean, he was into it for the breasts.

"Speaking of which, do we have time for a little?"

Dean wasn't even really able to finish his question. Sam cut him off, "Definitely no. From the sound of it, the natives are getting restless. Why don't you start getting them loaded into the van and I'll be down in a minute.

So it went, their happy family Saturday at the zoo. It wasn't perfect, but life never was. There was Henry getting scared by the orca at the aquatic show, already overwhelmed by the crowds in general and not stopping crying for nearly an hour, refusing to nurse even. There was a big spat between their two daughters over who got the last stuffed pink elephant from the gift shop. He'd had to tell them, "no one, that's who, when you fight over it like that." There'd also been the heart stopping minute when they'd thought that Little Bobby had gotten lost in the crowds. They'd found him sort of attached to the next group ahead, following a guy vaguely of Dean's same height and build, wearing the same kind of gray utility jacket that Dean often wore. Little Bobby hadn't even realized he'd been lost. 

But it'd also been wonderful. This was the kind of thing Dad had never done with them when they were kids. Once, Sam might have been too bitter about that to enjoy it and Dean might have gotten defensive and angry at Sam for that bitterness. Now though, after the hard years, all that Dean felt was sorry for his father, that he'd missed doing this kind of thing with them, that circumstances had made it such that it wasn't possible for them to have done it. They'd both forgiven the old man long ago and Dean wasn't about to waste any of his perfect Saturday on regret. The sun had been shining, the sky blue. It was neither too cold nor too hot for mid October. And they were out. At the zoo. With their kids. Their six beautiful children, with another on the way. There was no danger, at least not any of the kind they used to face on a daily basis. How could life really get better than this?

When they finally made it home much later that night, the kids' tummies were full of pizza dinner. They were already yawning, tired out from their day in the sun. Even Sam Jr., normally a proponent of the late night bedtime, climbed right into his bed, let both his daddies kiss him on the head and tell him they loved him. It wasn't but an hour later and the clock only reading nine and the house was silent, all of their kids in bed, completely conked out. 

"Sex?" Sam asked, as if the answer to that question would ever be anything but yes, shutting the door to the nursery where he'd just checked on Henry in his crib.

"God, yes," Dean said. Before Sam could change his mind or one of the kids woke up, Dean grabbed Sam's hand and all but dragged him down the hallway to their bedroom. In less than five minutes, both of their lips were swollen from kisses and Dean was achingly hard, Sam too. Most of their clothes were off, but Sam still wore the damn nursing bra. Dean had an urge to take scissors and cut the thing off Sam. Instead, he carefully unhooked it, and when Sam's breasts fell free and loose from it, Dean tossed it all the way across the room, into a corner. That thing was a boner wilter as far as Dean was concerned. 

"Would you do something for me, babe? Just a little thing? I'll make it worth your while."

"Are we talking a swap here?" Sam asked. 

It was a little system they'd worked out, just to keep things interesting and make sure neither of them ended up yearning for something and never getting it. The kink swap had two rules. You proposed and accepted a swap blind, so that you wouldn't know what you were getting into. The second rule was that if both of them agreed to the swap, then they had to give in to the other's request, no matter what it was. You could safeword out during, of course, but you had to at least give it a try and if you safeworded out, the other could ask for a forfeit. It'd been a while since they'd done one, but things did get busy with the kids. Dean wondered why he hadn't thought to ask for what he wanted this way a long time ago.

"Yeah, okay. We'll swap," Dean said, wondering what Sam might come up with this time. He obviously had something on his mind or else he wouldn't have brought it up. The last time they'd done a kink swap, Sam wanted to be screwed in a department store changing room. He tended to like situations where they'd be arrested if caught, though somehow, they never were caught. "Is it a deal?"

"It's a deal," Sam said. "What do you want?"

"You don't want to go first?"

"Mine will take some planning. You go first."

Dean went to the drawer where the lace confections he'd bought were kept, folded up nicely, still in perfect condition. He picked out his favorite from the bunch. It was pink, with sheer lace cups that would clearly show Sam's nipples and aureola through the fabric. It, technically, was also a nursing bra, as the cups unlatched and allowed free access. It was from a brand called Hot Milk, which Dean almost didn't believe existed. Sexy nursing bras? Clearly Dean wasn't the only one turned on by milky tits.

"I want you to put this on and wear while we fuck. Because you would look so hot in it. I just want to see."

"I'm not a chick, Dean. We've been over this again and again and the answer will always be no," Sam said. He crossed his arms over his breasts. It didn't exactly hide them, they were too big for that, but his message was clear. Access was about to be cut off. 

"Actually, under the terms of the swap, the answer right now is yes," Dean said. 

"Damn you!" Sam said. "You are so paying for this later."

"Happily. Now. Bra. You," Dean said, holding it out. 

"That one won't even fit me anymore," Sam said, after pressing his lips together for a moment. "You bought it for me just after Sam Jr. was born. I've gotten bigger since then. A lot bigger." 

Dean thought about it. Sam's first pregnancy had brought Sam real breasts pretty much right away. They'd sprouted up to a generous handful during his first trimester and Dean had pretty much thought he was the luckiest man around. He'd quickly become obsessed with them, playing with them, nuzzling the nipples, sucking on them, just plain feeling them, squeezing and rubbing them. He'd been surprised when the milk had come in a couple of weeks before Sam Jr.'s birth, but even more surprised by how much he'd loved suckling on Sam, drinking that milk right from the source. When their first baby had been born, Sam's breasts had expanded even more with the milk coming in, to the point where it was obvious that he needed a bra, just for support and comfort. Dean had bought the sexy nursing bra and a few others. Instead of wearing them, Sam had come up with the first generation of the nursing bras he wore, utterly plain, without so much as a jot of adornment, shapeless, and in that ugly beige so many bras came in. The sexy bras were ignored, put in a drawer and never taken out. 

But Sam was right, because he had grown since that first pregnancy. He'd been a generous handful back then and he was a double handful now. He hadn't grown a size with every pregnancy, but his tits were now easily twice the size they'd been during his first. Dean couldn't say that he loved knocking Sam up just for the size increases, because there was a whole lot more to it than that, but damn it was about one of the best side effects Dean could have asked for. 

"Show me," Dean said, holding out the lacy thing. "I want to see just how much bigger you've gotten."

Sam quirked his lips and held out his hand for the bra in question. "You won't quit until I try this one on, will you?"

"Nope," Dean said. He laid back on the bed to watch the show. Sam wrapped the bra around his torso. He hooked the back up while the hooks were in front, then tugged and pulled until they were in the back. He flipped up the cups and slipped his arms through the straps, tugging them up onto his shoulders. Then he presented himself to Dean, hands on his hips. 

"Holy crap is that hot," Dean said, unable not to say it. Sam's tits didn't just strain at the bra, they completely overwhelmed it. They leaked out, not just over the top, forming sort of a double boob effect where the top line of the cups cut into their softness, but they also leaked out from below, so that Dean could see Sam's under cleavage. Sam's anti-demonic possession tattoo just touched the inside of the bra strap, and tattoos, Dean thought, were always sexy. Just as he'd always imagined, the pink lace was gorgeous against Sam's pale skin. Sam's face was blushing just about that same shade of pink at the moment. Sam never blushed. He couldn't look Dean in the eyes, just staring down at his feet. When Dean stepped close and raised Sam's chin, the look in his eyes was pure anger.

"I am not a woman," Sam said. 

It wasn't that Sam had never said something like that before, but Dean really heard it tonight. Dean got what he meant. It was a particularly hard walk across the gender balance tightrope that Omegas had. To identify as male and yet have certain female body parts had to mess with you and your self concept. A lot of Omegas drew lines in the sand. Yeah, they'd get pregnant and give birth to children, but they wouldn't do that, whatever their particular tipping point was. They might give birth to children, but refuse to breastfeed them. Or they might refuse to be penetrated, except during the heats where they conceived their children. Sam's line, it seemed, was the wearing of feminine clothing, or at least, of lacy bras. If only he could make Sam understand that the reason he found the bras so attractive was because of how much more masculine they made the rest of him seem in contrast. 

"Nobody ever said you were. You've got three inches and about thirty pounds of muscle on me. You've got this huge, amazing cock that I will never get tired of. Your shoulders are like a work of art. And you are the toughest damn son of a bitch I've ever met. You slammed shut the gates of Hell forever, remember? There is no doubt you're a man. But there's so much more to you than that. You're a man, but that's not all you are," Dean said. He touched Sam's lower abdomen gently. "You've got our baby inside of you. You carried our other six inside of you too. And I love that about you, just as much as I love the fact that you could probably totally kick my ass if you wanted to."

Dean laid his hands on Sam's breasts, cupping them, enjoying how they spilled over his fingers, so generously proportioned. He squeezed Sam's nipple, or rather, the flesh around and behind the nipple, because he wanted to make Sam's milk spill out. Sam made little moans as the milk dribbled down, soaking immediately through the pink lace. He squeezed again as he said, "And I love these breasts of yours. Not just because you fed all six of our babies with them. The babies and me. Yeah, it's amazing that you've done all that with them."

It was actually. Sam had been lactating pretty much continuously for the past eleven years. When there wasn't a baby on the breast, then Sam let Dean feed as much as he wanted. 

"But they're beautiful just as they are, as part of your body. They're so beautiful, I just want to see them wrapped up in something pretty. I hate to see them squashed and flattened and covered up completely. They look more beautiful to me because you're not a woman. I love how strange it looks to see these fantastic, soft, enormous tits on a chest that's other wise built like a comic book hero. Try and see them from my eyes, just for tonight."

"I hate them sometimes," Sam said, crossing his arms across his chest again. He'd never before talked about his breasts that way. "You know, it still surprises me all the time. I look in the mirror and I see them and I'm not expecting to, somehow. Like they don't really belong to me. They're so huge and they get in the way. They leak at the most inconvenient times. You've got no idea what it's like to be just standing there, talking to someone, then somewhere nearby, a baby cries and all of a sudden, the front of your shirt is soaked. And they can hurt. They get sore, so I can hardly turn over in my sleep even. I have to wear a bra, otherwise they get sore."

"Would you want to get rid of them or something?" Dean asked. 

He loved Sam's tits, but he loved Sam's happiness more. An Omega's breasts usually shrank some when they were done with nursing and childbearing, but the only way they went away for good was surgery. A fair number of Omegas took that route. It wasn't hard to find a plastic surgeon offering elective mastectomy and reconstructive surgery. They advertised that just as much as they did breast augmentation for women. If Sam wanted to get rid of his breasts, then Dean would be as supportive as Sam needed.

"God, no!" Sam said. "I'm not going to amputate them, just because they're uncomfortable sometimes. I guess I love them too. You know, there's nothing else in the world quite like feeding a baby from your body. I love feeding you. I love everything you do to them. Make me feel so good, so close to you. Does it really turn you on that much to see me like this?"

"You know it does," Dean said. He grabbed Sam's hand and guided it down to his cock, which was still like an iron rod in his boxer briefs. Sam smiled.

"Okay, just for tonight. Just because you're the one asking," Sam said. "God, I feel so humiliated, but yes, I'll do this for you happily."

Sam kissed him again, then took Dean's hands in his and lifted Dean's hands up to touch his tits. Dean kneaded them through the bra. They were heavy in his hands, soft and squishy, but Sam's nipples were hard, like little rocks. He manipulated them, expertly expressing Sam's milk until the bra was completely soaked, the fabric of the cups having gone from translucent to outright transparent. Sam's head lolled to the right and he moaned, lost to the sensation. 

"Oh, babe, you are so amazing," Dean said. "Kneel for me."

As Sam did that, Dean got the tube of lube from the bedside table where they kept it. He shed his underwear and slathered his dick with some of the lube, shivering at the cold of it. At first he thought he'd have to pull the bra down to do what he had in mind, but he noticed that the center of the underwires on the bra didn't even come close to touching Sam's chest. There was a huge gap where the straining bra's band failed to even touch Sam's ribcage and it was here that Dean started to slide in his cock. He grabbed at Sam's tits again and pulled them tight and close around him as he slid in and out between them, fucking them. Sam hissed a little at Dean's grip, but he kept smiling, then relaxed into it, letting Dean do this to him, even loving the rough, grabbing hands. Sam bent his head down, trying to capture the head of Dean's cock in his mouth. It was like a little bit of heaven, this. Warm, smooth soft flesh wrapped all the way around him, a hot wet mouth to sink into every couple of strokes. Dean couldn't help it, he started increasing his speed and intensity, about to bring himself to orgasm, just by fucking Sam's tits. 

Except Sam put a restraining hand on Dean's hip, stopping his thrusts, forcefully. "Not yet," he said. Sam might be a pure bottom, but that didn't mean he didn't call the shots in the bedroom most of the time. If he didn't want Dean to come yet, Dean wasn't coming. That was fine. They were older. Dean was good for one shot tonight and Sam obviously didn't want Dean to waste it. It'd be selfish of Dean to blow his load this way. Sam could come as many times as they could make him and they were really just getting started.

"Bed?" Dean asked. 

They laid down together, on their sides, facing each other. Dean rolled Sam's nipples between his fingers until Sam was groaning, eyes shut, bliss on his face, helpless at the touch. Dean loved to see his massive husband so undone like this, so given to pleasure that he could hardly speak and it inspired him to pull and tug on those nipples harder and harder. Only when Sam was leaking pre-come out of his cock, even though Dean hadn't touched that yet, did Dean put his mouth around one of the nipples. He didn't pull the breast all the way into his mouth, didn't initiate a proper latch. He wasn't trying to get the milk, just yet. Even so, a little dribbled into his mouth through the fabric. It was sweet and warm. Dean swallowed, then started closing his teeth in a protracted bite, increasing his pressure until Sam cried out wordlessly. Sam was balancing on that edge of pleasure and pain, his cock weeping. Dean laid a hand over Sam's mouth, to remind him not to make much more noise, not unless they wanted to wake the children. Sam whimpered, but Dean could feel him nod his head in agreement, and when Dean focused on the nipple again, Sam was quiet, but he started shaking, like he might come. Dean eased up a little on the bite, then a second later, started up again, pinching and teasing the other nipple with his fingers until Sam was coming, just from Dean touching his tits. It was a dry come, or rather, a kind of wet and juicy one. Omegas had a couple of different kinds of orgasm and Dean had managed to trigger the one that was more vaginal, that made Sam squirt copious clear fluids from his pussy.

Sam made a few mewling sounds as Dean changed tactics for a moment, diving down to Sam's muff, licking him clean of the musky, fragrant juices. Of course, that really only made Sam get wetter, slicker. 

He stuck a couple of finger's in Sam's pussy, curling them, questing for those sensitive internal spots Dean knew he had. Usually, it was never easier to make Sam come than when he just had, but he was squirming and obviously uncomfortable. 

"Too much?" Dean asked. "Too soon?"

"Nurse from me?" 

Dean didn't need to be asked that question twice. He unhooked both of the cups from the nursing bra, exposing Sam's nipples. Dean latched on to the other nipple, to give the bitten one a break. Dean suckled hard, pulling deep and being rewarded with big mouthfuls of milk. He moaned, just from how good it tasted. It was sweeter than cow's milk. Thinner, but somehow, still rich, especially as Dean suckled longer and he got to the hind milk, which was higher in fat than the foremilk. He'd been a little worried that there wouldn't be much milk left for him. Henry had nursed a good long time already tonight while they were putting the kids to bed, but either Sam's body had made more already or Henry hadn't drunk as much as Dean thought, because it took Dean a good twelve minutes at each tit until they were dry and his suckles brought nothing but moans from Sam. Even so, he kept at it. He never felt closer to Sam than when he was nursing like this. There was an intimacy that couldn't be replicated any other way, not even when his knot was buried deep in his husband's cunt, during a heat, locked in place.

When Dean finally lifted his head from Sam's breasts, he said, softly, almost reverently, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything," Dean said. 

"Hey, don't go getting all chick flick moment on me," Sam said. "I believe I was promised some fucking earlier if I wore this thing."

"How do you want it?" 

In answer, Sam got up on his hands and knees. He wanted anal, his favorite thing, and Dean would never say no to that. He grabbed the lube again and slicked them both up, started to ease a finger into Sam's hole. It went in super easy and Sam said, "Don't bother with fingers. I want you now. Ready for it."

So Dean positioned himself behind Sam, aimed and pressed his way in. Sam gasped a little, perhaps not quite as ready as he'd thought, but when Dean paused, meaning to give Sam a chance to adjust, Sam said, "Go on," so Dean thrust in deeper. He wouldn't last long, Sam was so tight and Dean had been waiting for relief so long. He just needed to be sure Sam got off again first, so he reached around for Sam's cock and began stroking in time to his thrusts. 

"Need something in my pussy too."

It'd be an awkward angle for fingers, so Dean withdrew and grabbed the box they kept hidden under the bed. "Which one you want, babe?" Dean asked, presenting the box to Sam, who, predictably, grabbed the knotting dildo.

Dean snickered slightly at his choice, but mostly, he was well pleased. Sam only picked that one when he was already nearly on the edge of an epic orgasm, when he was so horny he could hardly speak. Dean seated Sam's choice and started inflating the knot with the little pump. Sam wailed, quietly, pressing his face into a pillow to silence himself but there was no doubt of his level of arousal, how close he was. And Sam did come again the instant Dean re-entered him. The spasming of Sam's muscles around Dean caused him to follow soon after, his hands so tight on Sam's hips he was afraid he was bruising him. 

They settled down on the mattress, side by side. Dean went for the release valve of the knot and was stopped by Sam's hand. 

"Leave it," Sam said, panting. "It's locked in place."

It took more than an Alpha knot to achieve the tie. An Omega had corresponding erectile tissue around their vagina that swelled when a knot was seated in place. It didn't just help lock the semen in, it somehow actually helped the cervix suck the semen up into the womb. Dean's knot usually only swelled up when Sam was in heat, but Sam's internal knot swelled up when a knot was in him, whether or not he was in heat. The dildo didn't always fool Sam's body into thinking it was a real knot, but tonight, it had. Dean might be done. He'd had his one shot, but Sam was still riding high. He had another hour or so of coming in front of him, lucky bastard. 

Dean rolled Sam over onto his back and just enjoyed the sight for a moment of his husband, debauched like this. His tits were hanging out of the lacy bra. His face and chest were flushed with arousal. Sam's cock was still hard, so erect it rested against his belly, balls pulled up tight to the belly too. His legs were spread and the knotting dildo was well seated, not coming out any time soon. Dean's come was dripping out of Sam's ass onto the sheets below. Dean grinned then played for a while with the dildo, trying to pull it out. He earned a couple of muttered, breathy, 'Oh, God,'s from Sam. It was only then that Dean laid a hand on Sam's cock. 

If Sam's tits were a thing of beauty, then Sam's cock was a work of art. Shame Sam was such a bottom, because every now and then, Dean craved that cock, wanted it inside him. He'd done a kink swap a couple of times just to get it, but Sam's heart was never really into it. Sam's cock was huge for an Omega, seven thick, uncut inches. Dean tugged and pulled Sam's foreskin up and down over the head of Sam's cock. A foreskin was as good as lube for this kind of handjob. It kept things wet and smooth. It didn't take long for Dean to work Sam up to another orgasm.

This one made Sam cry out in bliss, and Dean said, "Shhh. Quiet. You'll wake the kids. Am I going to have to gag you?"

"Yeah, I think you are," Sam said, with a grin on his face. "Because this is too good."

Dean dug around in the box of sex toys and pulled out the gag, the one with the soft ball that went in the mouth. He held it close to Sam's face and Sam opened his mouth to take the ball in. They didn't have a lot of paraphernalia like that. They'd tried tying each other up, other stuff like that, but it didn't do much for them. But the gag was actually one of Sam's favorites, a purchase he'd made on his own. It allowed him to go all in, so to speak, without making too much noise. Dean fastened the gag behind Sam's head and got back to work. 

After Sam's third or fourth muffled orgasm, the baby monitor came on, announcing that Henry was wide awake and very unhappy about that fact. Dean got out of bed and said said, "I got this. You keep up with the happy times. I'll see what's bugging Hank."

Their grandfather, met only briefly, would have been horrified to hear that nickname used on his namesake. Dean found a pair of pajama bottoms and headed out to the nursery, taking care to lock the door behind him. It wouldn't do for one of the other kids to make their way out of bed and peek into the room, what with Sam still gagged up, with the dildo pretty much stuck in place still. Sam deserved to have more him time. Dean, though, he had to go be a daddy. 

Need for a diaper change was Dean's number one suspicion for Henry's wakefulness. He slept through the night, most nights anyway, and had for a while, but a diaper full of crap could put anyone into a foul mood. Dean investigated and discovered it wasn't just a dirty diaper, but a full on ass volcano that could not have been contained by the diaper any more than Mount. St. Helens could have been contained by putting a cork in the top. Jammies, bedding, everything around had been victim. Dean suppressed a gag and then got to work, cleaning up. He could have this sorted in five, ten minutes and get back to Sam before he even was ready for another orgasm.

After six kids, he was pretty much an expert at this sort of thing. He worked efficiently, stripping the kid clean first and dropping the soiled jammies on the crib sheet, wiping the worst of it off the kid's skin. Dean stepped into the nearest bathroom and gave Hank a quick bath, making sure to get any crannies clean. He correctly interpreted a funny look on his baby boy's face and held him over the toilet just in time to catch another burst of diarrhea. Poor kid, he thought, just as Hank threw up all over him. He got Henry washed, dried and put back into clean diapers and jammies just in time to hear a familiar voice from down the hall, "Daddy? Papa? I don't feel so good."

So, adult time was over for good for the night. It wasn't that he wasn't disappointed, but he didn't mind so much. It was time to go be a daddy, and that, he loved. He reached Mary Dean's room just in time to put the trash can in front of her mouth. Things just escalated from there. 

A third vomiting kid later, Sam walked out of their room, in sweats, looking absolutely nothing like the debauched Omega Dean had left in the bedroom. Instead, he looked every inch a daddy, concerned, wondering what was happening with his kids. Probably even had the damn nursing bra on again. "What's going on? I thought you'd be back in a moment."

"I did too. Hank, Mary Dean and Little Bobby all have a stomach thing. Slight fever, I think. Haven't had a chance to get the thermometer yet. I just hope its not rotavirus again," Dean said. "That was horrible."

He had Henry, who was still crying, in a tired and weak kind of way, in one arm and was holding a trash basket from Little Bobby's room, about to take it downstairs for emptying. Sam caught sight, or rather, smell of it and he, too, was turning a pale shade of green and running towards the bathroom, hand covering his mouth. Dean sighed and headed downstairs, to deal with the vomit, then check and see if they were stocked up on pedialyte and such things. 

Hopefully, whatever this was, it would be more mild than the Winchester rotavirus epidemic of two years ago, which had hit all five of the kids they had at the time and hospitalized two of them. Dean dealt with the things that needed to be dealt with, stocked the fridge with the backup case of pedialyte from the pantry, and grabbed a clean bucket for each of the two older kids. Sam came downstairs just as Dean was about to head up again. He grinned sheepishly at Dean.

"Here. Give me Hank. I'll get him, you get the other two. I don't think I'm sick sick," he said. "Just pregnant guy stomach."

"No worries," Dean said, handing the little guy over to his Papa. Henry didn't settle down the instant he was in Sam's arms, which worried Dean.

From upstairs, Mary Dean called out, "Daddy!" again and Dean turned to go. Probably she needed the bucket, so he'd better hurry. Then there was the soiled crib bedding to deal with, and Little Bobby's too, because he'd thrown up all over his bed. 

Yeah, even on nights like this, he still felt like the luckiest man around. 

Two weeks later, everyone in the house had had and recovered from that particular stomach virus. Dean had been the last one to get it and even he was feeling well enough to be back to work a couple of days. Sam had just come back from some shopping and he was putting groceries away. Dean had gotten the youngest kids down for a nap and for the oldest ones, Dean had sat them in front of the TV. The adults needed at least a little time together, without the kids, even if they had it while putting away groceries. Dean poked around the bags on the table, helping sort out fridge stuff from pantry stuff from freezer stuff. He came across a fancy shopping bag, all in pink, from a shop called "Intimacy." Inside was something wrapped in pink tissue paper. Dean raised an eyebrow at that. 

"It's the place I buy my bras," Sam said. "Only place that carries ones big enough. Most of the Omega clothing shops assume you never get bigger than a C cup."

Dean knew Sam was bigger than a C cup, but suddenly realized, he didn't have any idea of Sam's actual bra size, other than 'enormous.' Oddly though, they never seemed that big when you were looking at Sam as a whole. Up close, considered individually, they were huge, bigger than a baby's whole head. It was probably all about scale. Everything about Sam was huge, not just his height. His hands, feet, shoulders, all huge. Sam's tits were just built to his scale, which was massive for an Omega. Sam was the only Omega Dean had ever known who was taller 5'8". 

"What is your size anyway?"

"Thirty-eight G," Sam said, as he was rearranging the vegetable drawer so that things would fit in better and the older stuff would find its way to the top. Dean pushed the bra bag away and started pulling more groceries out of the bags. It was probably another one of those damn nursing bras, nothing he'd be interested in. Sam added, "You might want to take a look in the bag. I'm pretty sure you'll like what you see. It's not a nursing bra."

Dean quirked an eyebrow at that and peeked into the bag, tugging away the pink tissue paper. He caught a flash of fancy, black lace laid over a pink fabric. He poked a finger in and came out with a strap. It wasn't inches and inches wide, It was less than an inch. A fancy little bow decorated the place where it joined the cup fabric. Dean pulled the whole thing out of the bag and whistled. It was the bra of his dreams, feminine and classy, but looking like it'd show plenty of cleavage. It was a half cup balconette in black lace and pink satin, with fancy seaming details and a little bow right between the tits.

"I thought when we do that again, I want to have something that fits," Sam explained. "That other bra was really uncomfortable."

"What do you mean, when we do it again? I thought you said it one time only deal and I'm okay with that."

"It was kind of amazing. You were amazing. I haven't come that hard in years," Sam said, grinning. "Not even when I'm in heat. It's only for sex and even then, only some time. Don't ask me to wear it out in public or anything. I'll wear it when I want and only then."

"The guy with the tits makes the rules about what bra he wears. Seems fair enough," Dean said. 

They couldn't discuss it any further, because clomping feet indicated that children were about to arrive in the kitchen. Dean shoved the bra back into the shopping bag and started ferrying canned goods to the pantry. His oldest son and second oldest son both announced that they were hungry, then magically, all of the children but Hank arrived in the kitchen, wanting a snack. As Sam began cutting up apples and arranging something healthy to feed their children, he said to Dean, "Tonight."

"Sounds good," Dean said. Tonight was hours away and he pretty much wasn't going to be able to think of anything but Sam until then. "I should go mow the lawn or something."

Yeah, he was the damn luckiest man around. 

FIN


End file.
